


Tranne Te

by annepast



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Music, Perfume
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 10:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annepast/pseuds/annepast
Summary: Luna Lovegood. She was unique, she was my exception, she was my rule breaker, she was my ticket to hell. And she was going to regret teaching me about perfumes and music. (Blaise Zabini/Luna Lovegood)
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Blaise Zabini





	Tranne Te

**Author's Note:**

> TRANNE TE, from italian, 'except you'.

* * *

I don't know how it started, how it happened, or what end it took. Perhaps it was the lights. That damn lights that blinked frantically, that numbed people's minds, I guess that might be the reason. But I can only guess - let's make that very clear. I don't know if they did it voluntarily, I have no idea if he had too much to drink or if he injected anything, or if she used some sort of love potion, I don't know! The only thing I do know, however, is that when I turned my back on Blaise, there he was, in the arms of that blonde mudblood. But honestly, I was not that surprised to see a bottle of perfume on my bed the next morning, along with a lovely note: _"Thanks for lending the bed, Draco. I love you, B.Z."_

Blaise Zabine really is a son of a bitch.

**TRANNE TE.**

The night arrived calmly. Moonlight washed over the main hall, adorned with black, red, purple and orange ribbons, it was Halloween. Pumpkins decorated the big stage of the celebration, little bats flew over the many dancing heads already moving around the tables. The music sounded cloudy, from the back of the lobby, some kind of Jazz in the background. The tiny lights spread an air of seduction and the most inappropriate fantasies passed through the impure minds present there.

This year's theme was Ghosts' Musical. Michael Jacksons, Amy Winehouses, Kurt Cobains, all from the filthy Muggle culture, were scattered around. I only wore some black slacks and a blazer, since I would never dress like any muggle. The drinks bubbled and smoked. Blues, greens, yellows and reds, vibrantly colored candies were spread out on the huge table in the center of the room. And there, next to that banquet, the main course of the night.

The unruly hair stuck in low curls at the nape of her neck. The red lips, the eyes marked with black. Oh, and what eyes! It was such a sweet look that the delicacies on the table no longer seemed as appetizing. The flushed face, the smile on her lips. And that's when my sin started. The desire to taste that mouth was killing my main ideals. Luna Lovegood.

She was crazy, slandered,a mudblood, and completely delusional. But those delicate hands, fixing the little blond tuft, made me wonder if I hadn't already learned my lesson from that redhead the other day - my face is still burning from the slap. Muggles and their poor derivatives would always be the scum of the wizarding world. Not that she was dirty-blooded, but she was considered a blood traitor, which, in my opinion, is the same thing, if not worse. I don't know if I'm making sense now, but it's easy to lose track of thought when that sweet smell hits you. Simply seductive, simply innocent. Lovegood was a contradiction.

The rest of the world seemed to enter the room at that moment. The room started to fill up in such a way that I could no longer see those blue eyes, I could no longer smell her lovely perfume. Draco was already in kisses and hugs with Pansy. And I was there, turning my head to look for her. It was wrong, but today was supposed to be a wrong day. EVERYTHING was wrong. That filthy culture was invading our world, with that disgusting, promiscuous music playing. I got up and left the place, towards the garden, to relieve myself a little, listening, over the music, to Draco's screams calling me. "Blaise, Blaise, Blaise" was just what I heard for a long time.

The night was very pleasant, despite it beign October. The serene was cool, the grass slightly wet, the aroma of the cakes came into the night. The forest was quiet. The animals seemed to have stopped, whatever they were doing, to listen to the music that came from inside the castle, resounding on the walls, vibrating glasses and bottles. The darkness looked strangely good. And all that ivy running through my ears was too much to take - even though Draco was putting up with that stupid musical story. Yes, he has already realized that I love music. I love it so much that last week I broke Pansy's disc player to pieces. I don't know if the anger is against music itself or because it is derived from the Muggle world.

I kept walking through the garden, until I reached the black lake and sat on one of the big rocks on the bank and if the filth was not enough chasing me, there she was. With her blond curls, throwing gravels and hoping they would jump over the surface tension. The dress - yes, it was a dress, not a skirt - white, fluttered around her calves and waves formed along its length. She must have seen me approach, because she stopped what she was doing and looked to her right. Those blue orbs found mine and I just wanted one thing: to bury myself in that divine sin.

*

He was just sitting there, just looking at me, in black robes. He looked strangely disturbed. I threw the rest of the gravels into the water and went over to him. Blaise followed me with his eyes, every move I made, and when I sat down, he moved away a bit. It was visible in his eyes, I could almost feel the pull pulling him closer to me, with every delicious beat of the music behind us.

We were completely the opposite of each other. I thrived on music. Every moment of my life was governed by a note, which, in the end, turned into a calm melody. Melody which was already mine, exclusively. He could only see the silences and the pauses of each verse, of each stave. He just needed to learn one thing: music usually whispers to us. They can call me crazy, and maybe I am, but what they don't see is that behind every movement there is a rhythm, a feeling and an odor. His was jazz, it was fear and it was cinnamon too.

It was jazz, because its beats were vibrant, they were cozy and there was that slight hint of promiscuity. It was fear, because he shouldn't be there, complaining to me and asking for an explanation of all this "nonsense" I was saying. And it was cinnamon, his perfume was extremely rough and delicate at the same time, spicy almost. Perfumes, I have a collection, one for each situation. Today, dressed as Marilyn Monroe, I chose a sweet aroma to balance all the sensuality of the dress. I turned to look into his eyes and started trying to explain.

"Blaise, music is like perfumes," he looked at me again and laughed. "If you ignore them, you will miss those important details". I approached him and tried to explain better. I looked deep into his eyes. I have always tried to do my best and I know that's the only way things can start flowing around me.

*

She approached me dangerously. She was unlike anything I had ever seen, or heard, in my life. And I think that's exactly why I let myself learn that lesson.

"If you don't see the music, you go blind," she closed my eyes and kissed each one. "If you don't taste the music, you ignore its taste," she ran her fingers over my lips. "If you don't listen to the music, you don't hear the call of life," and she lightly touched my left ear lobe. She was teasing me, the goosebumps pricked my skin. "If you don't smell it, you can't breathe anymore", she went down to my neck and rubbed her own there, spreading the sweet scent and branding me for the rest of the night. "If you don't feel the music anymore", she ran her long nails across my chest, "you become empty", and kissed my lips.

Suddenly, the music seemed to simply keep pace with us. In fact, I think it was our song. Fuck that she was a mudblood, fuck that it was wrong, fuck that she was crazy. It was the best madness I had ever tasted. Sugar seemed to be part of her, and everything about it was numbing. A coldly flamming kiss. Her intoxicating tongue dominated me, I no longer knew what was right and what was wrong. And that bitter taste of envy, of jealousy of not being with her for all her paths traveled, invaded me in such a way that my bones hurt. I pressed her against me, not wanting to let her go. I wanted to tear her apart because I couldn't be with her forever. It was unfair that she was so deliciously forbidden. Maybe I already knew all that she taught me, but now I was sure that all my senses were invaded by the musical notes so spoken by Luna.

She released my lips and ran into the main hall. Her perfume leaving a vast path of perdition. No, that night she would be mine. She would be mine forever. I would steal her innocence from her and never let anyone take it back. I got up and ran towards her. She was in the middle of the room, laughing at me, waiting for me to go to her and take her by the arm, press her against the wall and whisper to her ear that she was mine and mine alone. It would make that blue-eyed girl tremble with desire. It would raise all the hair on her fragile body and she would scream my name until her voice came out hoarse. Hoarse with desire, hoarse with lust. It would show that music is more than feelings and perfumes, that it is also sex and temptation, it is a pure sin. And I would never let her forget that.

Luna Lovegood. She was unique, she was my exception, she was my rule breaker, she was my ticket to hell. And she was going to regret teaching me about perfumes and music that night.

**END.**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Translation from portuguese, "Tranne Te", originally published on Aug 18th, 2011.  
> The original can be found here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7299092/1/Tranne-Te.  
> Thanks for all the love and support ♥


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